


A Race to the Finish

by celtic7irish



Series: Tony Stark Bingo 2019 [5]
Category: Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Gen, M/M, Pre-Relationship, Race car AU, pre-serum steve
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-25
Updated: 2019-08-25
Packaged: 2020-09-26 04:06:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,635
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20383396
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/celtic7irish/pseuds/celtic7irish
Summary: Tony Stark was said to be the best driver in the history of the sport, and looking at his record (well, listening to Steve ramble on about it), it seemed it wasn’t just baseless boasting.  The driver for Stane Industries was rich, handsome, and liked fast cars. And fast women, if even half the rumors about him were true.Or: A Race Car AU where Bucky & Steve save up to go to a race car, Bucky gets to be a hero, and Tony gets his flirt on.





	A Race to the Finish

**Author's Note:**

> For Tony Stark Bingo Square K1: Image: Tony in Race Car Driver Uniform

“Come on, Buck!” Steve urged, shifting impatiently in place, craning his neck to try and take in everything. The race track was bursting with movement, and Bucky took a moment to pat himself on the back for remembering Steve’s inhaler - all the dirt from the race track wasn’t going to be good for his lungs - and a few other necessities.

“Yeah, yeah, hold yer horses,” he grumbled, handing Steve a bottle of water. He was just glad that they were allowed to bring their own food and beverages with them, because there was no way he could afford five dollars for a hotdog, or even two dollars for a bottle of water. It had taken them months of scrimping and saving every last spare penny to buy two tickets to the race, but it was worth it, to see the way Stevie’s face lit up when Bucky had shown them to him.

Bucky had worked double shifts all week so he could have this one day off, and Steve had helped a couple of the neighbors with their shopping and housework to help pay for the bus tickets.

“Bucky,” Steve said again, scowling as he cracked open the sealed bottle and took a couple of sips. “If we don’t go now, all the good seats will be taken!”

“What good seats?” Bucky demanded with a roll of his eyes, finally satisfied that their pack contained everything they might need. “We’re in the general seating area, Steve.”

Blue eyes narrowed menacingly. “Even general seating has good seats, Buck,” Steve informed him crisply, crossing his arms over his skinny chest impatiently. Bucky grinned, ruffling Steve’s hair and chuckling when Steve squawked indignantly and batted his hand away.

“Yeah, yeah,” he said. “All right, then. Come on, punk.”

“Jerk,” Steve shot back, but he led the way to the track’s entrance, waiting impatiently while security rummaged through Bucky’s bag, and then  _ again _ while Bucky reorganized everything back into its proper place. Finally, though, they were settled in their seats, listening to the announcements as the stadium prepared for the race, cars lining up and their drivers leaning casually on the hoods chatting with each other or signing autographs for their excited, overeager fans. Bucky personally didn’t see the appeal in watching a bunch of cars speed around an oval track, even if they were going faster than even his bike could go, but Stevie had been looking forward to this for a long while, and Bucky wasn’t going to disappoint him. Besides, the accidents and spin outs were pretty fun, and even Bucky could enjoy a sleek, fast-moving car.

“Oh! Oh! There he is!” Steve said suddenly, gripping Bucky’s arm with one hand and pointing with the other. Without even seeing him, Bucky knew who Steve was talking about. Tony Stark was said to be the best driver in the history of the sport, and looking at his record (well, listening to Steve ramble on about it), it seemed it wasn’t just baseless boasting. The driver for Stane Industries was rich, handsome, and liked fast cars. And fast women, if even half the rumors about him were true.

Tony wasn’t talking to anybody, his expression bored as he leaned on the door of his car, his arms crossed under his chin. Two other drivers were trying to talk to him, but he was barely paying attention. But a few minutes later, the pre-race invocation started, and Bucky sighed, standing and waiting for both that and the national anthem to be complete.

When that was done, the drivers climbed into their cards and fastened themselves in. Five minutes later, the grand marshal gave the standard-issue command. “Drivers, start your engines!” rumbled over the loudspeakers, and Bucky leaned forward in his chair, his foot tapping impatiently on the ground as the cars revved, engines rising in a roar along with the excited crowd.

“Is the flag green?” Steve demanded, pointing towards the grandstand while Bucky wondered what was taking them so long to start. It was a  _ race _ , wasn’t it?

Bucky peered at the flags at the start line, then nodded. “Yeah. Solid green,” he confirmed. “That’s good?”

Steve nodded vigorously. “Yes, that means the track is clear and the race can start,” he explained with the long-suffering tone that told Bucky he’d probably explained this multiple times already, during those rare times when they’d have a chance to listen to a race on the old beat-up radio in their apartment, or watch it on their television, if it got that channel that day.

After three laps where they placidly followed the pace car, the green flags were waved, and the cars were off. Steve had been right; seeing a car race in person was nothing like watching it on the telly. The excitement was palpable and easy to be swept away in, and Bucky soon found himself on his feet, cheering as loudly as anyone else as the cars vied for position, edging ahead or falling behind with the turn of a wheel or the near-miss of another car. Bucky didn’t understand all the rules, didn’t know why the cars only seemed to pass each other at certain points, or pulled into the pits for repairs 

Bucky found himself mostly watching the Stark car, which had started in the worst position, but was smoothly making its way up the ranks, making it look almost effortless. He took the curves on a hairpin turn, and sped down the straightaway, leaving the other cars easily behind.

The whole time, Steve was explaining what the different flags meant, and which drivers violated what rules and had to swing into the pit. At one point, he started coughing, which messed with his breathing, and Bucky gave him his inhaler followed by another bottle of water. They both added a bit more sunscreen - the track was  _ hot _ \- and Bucky flopped a straw hat over Steve’s head, which got him a glare. He just grinned in response.

Before Bucky could say anything, there was a sudden ruckus in the stands, and he pulled Steve towards him and into a tight hold before the smaller man got himself clocked upside the head by their neighbor. He scowled. “What the hell?” he complained.

“Bucky,” Steve said, then again more insistently when Bucky just continued to glare at their oblivious neighbor. “Bucky!” A hard jab in his stomach from a sharp elbow got his attention quickly enough, and Bucky looked down. Steve was watching the track, his eyes wide, and Bucky finally took a moment to see what all the fuss was about, the stadium having fallen nearly silent.

The cars were all stopped on the track in a cluster, which Bucky assumed meant they were supposed to be there, because they had been a bit more spread out just minutes earlier. He glanced towards the stand, noting the flags there. “Hey, what’s the red flag mean?” he asked Steve quietly.

“It means there’s an accident on the track,” Steve hissed, pointing. “There.”

Bucky looked where he was pointing and saw three cars. Two of them were dented on either side, as if they’d sideswiped each other, and the front end of one of the cars was all beat in. But it was the car that was flipped upside down on the track that had Bucky’s attention. Surrounded by emergency personnel, the Stark car wasn’t going anywhere in the near future.

“Oh, no,” Bucky murmured without thinking, watching with bated breath with the rest of the stadium as the paramedics dragged the driver out of the car and laid him on the track for assessment. A moment later, Tony Stark was pushing himself upright and staggering to his feet, waving his hands in a shooing gesture at the paramedics, who seemed to be arguing with him.

Tony turned around to survey his wrecked car, ignoring the paramedics and tipping his head to the side to listen to one of the members of his pit crew while the rest of the team swarmed the car. After a few minutes, he tossed his hands up in apparent disgust and stalked off the track, leaving the cleaning crew to do its job. It looked like Tony Stark was out of the race.

“Aw, man,” Steve grouched. “That sucks.” He took another look at the other two drivers who had taken out Stark’s car. Both of them had been disqualified, but they didn’t seem particularly upset about that, walking closely together and chatting amicably as they made their way off the track.

“Come on,” Steve said, pulling on Bucky’s sleeve and standing.

Bucky looked at him. “Come where?” he asked, confused. “The race ain’t over, is it?” he asked.

Steve rolled his eyes. “No, but Stark won’t be racing anymore. I don’t care about the rest of them, and if we’re quick, we can maybe see him before he leaves.”

Bucky doubted that, but he grabbed their stuff and followed his friend out of the stadium, listening to the murmurs of the restless crowd as they waited impatiently for the clean-up to finish so the race could get started again. Part of him mourned that they wouldn’t get to see the rest of the race, but this whole thing had been for Stevie in the first place, and if he wanted to go try and catch his idol, then so be it. Besides, maybe they could come back inside afterwards. Bucky had paid for the tickets after all, and there wasn’t anything that said that they  _ couldn’t _ go back in a bit later.

Surprisingly, once they made it out of the stadium itself, there were very few people around, and most of the ones that were there seemed far more interested in their drinks than the racing announcements that could be heard over the loudspeakers even from out here.

“Maybe he’s not out yet,” Steve said, rising up on his toes to peer over the cars.

“Or maybe he went out the back way,” Bucky countered, adjusting the bag on his shoulder. Steve gave him a look, then went back to scanning the parking lot.

Bucky was the one who saw him first, still in his racing uniform, but before he could grab Steve and point him in the right direction, there were microphones and cameras being shoved in Stark’s face. It was obvious that he was annoyed as he tried to push past them, with minimal success.

Steve had caught sight of the paparazzi by now, and he threw up his hands. “Bunch of vultures,” he groused, heading straight for the cluster of people. Bucky followed, visions of Steve brawling in back alleys running through his head. Steve hated bullies, no matter what form they took.

As they drew closer, Bucky realized that Stark was hurt. There was a gash across his left cheekbone, and he was favoring his left leg. Stark’s irritated gaze swept across the reporters dismissively before landing on Budky, standing awkwardly at the back of the pack. Almost immediately, his expression shifted from barely polite dismissal to alert interest, dark eyes sweeping up and down Bucky’s form. 

When he met Bucky’s eyes again, Bucky gave the man his most charming smile, cocking his head to the side and raising an eyebrow.

Stark smirked, reaching out and grabbing a recorder from the nearest reporter. “You want a statement?” he demanded. “Here’s a statement for you.” And with no more fafare, Tony Stark tossed the recorder over the crowd. “Bill e,” he snapped, obviously done with being nice. Bucky covered his mouth with one hand, and Tony gave him a wink, making his way through the confused crowd.

When it looked like a couple more reporters were going to block Stark’s effort, Steve spoke up from where he’d made his way into the media frenzy. “I think he doesn’t want to be bothered,” he said, jaw tight.

One of the reporters got a shrewd look in his eyes as he gave Steve a once over. Bucky just sighed. “And who are you?” the idiot asked, tilting his microphone towards Steve. “What’s your relationship to Stark?” There was a brief pause - the guy probably thought he was being dramatic - then he asked, “Are you his lover?”

Bucky didn’t know what the reporter was hoping for, but he was about get a Steve Rogers Speech. And possibly punched in the nose. Steve narrowed his eyes and opened his mouth, and Bucky finally stepped in, sidling up to Steve and wrapping an arm around those skinny shoulders.

Giving the reporter a sunny smile, Bucky pulled Steve against his side, ignoring the sharp jab to his gut. “I don’t see as that’s any o’ your business,” he drawled, watching as Stark took advantage of the situation and slipped away with a quick wave of thanks.

Bucky looked down at his best friend. “Looks like they lost their news,” he pointed out mildly, smirking when the reporters finally realized they’d been tricked. Fortunately, Bucky had been paying attention, and he pulled Steve away, the shorter man still chastising the reporters about harassment and invasion of privacy.

“I think they’ve got the idea,” Bucky murmured as they rounded a corner of the stadium.

“Well, that was…something, all right,” a voice spoke up from behind them, smooth and amused. Bucky turned around and found himself staring at a sardonic grin and amused brown eyes. Tony Stark flicked his gaze to Steve. “Thanks,” he said. Steve just nodded, eyes wide, and Tony winked at him, then turned back to Bucky.

Tilting his head towards where they’d left a bunch of angry reporters, Stark asked, “That happens a lot, then?”

Bucky shrugged. “Not usually with reporters,” he admitted, “but yeah. Stevie here never saw a bully he didn’t wanna punch.”

Tony laughed at that, dark and rich, and Bucky felt a surge of pride. “Yeah, thought I recognized that look on your face,” he teased. “Rhodey gets is a lot when he’s dragging my ass out of trouble.”

“Hey, I’m right here, you know,” Steve complained.

Stark tipped his head towards Steve. “Yes, you are,” he agreed. “Would an autograph make you go away so I can flirt with your buddy here?” he asked bluntly.

Steve blinked, then frowned, unsure whether or not to be insulted. Bucky smirked. “What makes you think we aren’t a couple?” he asked the brunette.

Stark grinned. “Because he’s no more your type than Rhodey’s mine,” he said.

“Aw, and here I thought you loved me best,” another voice spoke up.

Stark’s smile widened. “Sugarbritches!” he exclaimed cheerfully, hugging the tall, dark-skinned man that Bucky had seen not long ago in the pits. “Are you done threatening people?”

“I didn’t threaten anyone,” Rhodey said. Nobody believed him. Dark eyes swept over the two men. “Happy’s been looking for you,” he said, and Bucky wondered who Happy was. Another member of the pit crew?   
  


Stark shrugged. “He can wait,” he said dismissively. “Rhodey, meet my new best friends!” He gestured towards Steve and Bucky theatrically, and Bucky realized they’d never officially introduced themselves.

“Bucky Barnes,” he offered, holding out his hand for the other man to shake. Rhodey - what kind of name was that, anyway? - had a firm, confident grip, but he wasn’t trying to out-alpha Bucky, which made Bucky like him instantly. “And this is Steve Rogers,” he gestured to his best friend.

Rhodey blinked. “Steve Rogers?” he asked. “The Steve Rogers that sent in the art pieces for the new exhibit?” 

Bucky had no idea what exhibit the man was talking about, but when Steve nodded, almost shy, Rhodey grinned. “Awesome, man,” he said, shaking Steve’s hand enthusiastically. Turning to Stark, he added, “This is the guy that sent in those pieces you liked for the new exhibit.”

Stark grinned. “Well, how about that?” he drawled. “Rhodey-bear, how about you set Steve up with a couple of invitations to opening night, while I thank Bucky here for helping me escape that pack of hyenas?”

Rhodey gave Stark a look that clearly said he knew exactly what the man was up to, but after one more assessing look at Bucky, he led Steve off, talking about the new exhibit and someone named Pepper, who apparently was a bit of an art-lover, leaving Bucky and Stark to themselves.

“So,” Stark started, “what really brings you here?”

Bucky shrugged. “Stevie’s always been into racin’,” he said. “You’re his favorite. I thought it’d make a nice birthday gift, is all.” Nevermind that Steve’s birthday had been three months ago; it was the thought that counted, right?

“Wow. You really care for the guy a lot, huh?” Stark asked.

Bucky shrugged again. “Well, yeah, we’re practically brothers,” he admitted. “First met him takin’ on a coupla bullies that had been botherin’ some dame at the movies. Had a black eye and busted ribs, and was still fightin’ mad, spittin’ an’ clawin’ like an alleycat. Ma always taught me better than to ignore trouble if I saw it. Don’t think she meant for me to get into a fight, though.” 

Winifred Barnes had blistered his ears after learning what he’d done, taking on three big guys to defend the skinny blonde kid he’d brought home with him. Of course, she’d fussed over Steve like he was one of her own, and the two boys had been inseparable ever since. Steve had even become a real part of their family after his ma had died, but that wasn’t anybody’s business but theirs.

Stark smiled. “Rhodey first met me mouthing off to a couple of college seniors, about to get my ass beaten for showing them up.”

Bucky chuckled softly. “Your own guardian angel,” he teased gently.

"Then what does that make you?" Stark wondered.

"Your nurse, it looks like," Bucky answered, holding up a small tube of antiseptic and a bandaid. Hanging around a guy like Steve had done wonders for his emergency preparedness skills.

Stark smirked. “I definitely need looking after,” he agreed, standing patiently still while Bucky dabbed on the ointment and carefully pressed the bandaid over the cut on the other man's cheek.

Rocking back on his heels as he very obviously eyed Bucky from head to toe and back up before meeting his eyes again, his own dark with wicked promise, Stark licked his lips. “You, I like," he decided. "You can call me Tony." Bucky felt a flush of pride at that. From what Steve had said, Tony Stark had very few friends, and here Bucky was, having just met the guy amd already allowwd to take liberties. He wondered if Tony would let him take a few more.

"So,” Tony continued, “that being said, what are the chances that I can bribe you with a...private interview?” he purred.

Bucky grinned. “Depends, I guess,” he murmured, stepping into Tony’s place and placing his hands on either side of the driver’s hips. Tony leaned into him, his own arms wrapping around Bucky’s neck. “D’you think your friend can distract Stevie for that long?”

Tony chuckled. “Buckaroo, Rhodey can keep anybody busy. And if he can't, Pepper definitely can."

Bucky smiled. "Well, in that case, how about we take this interview somewhere quiet?"

Tony grinned. "Let's get out of here," he agreed, tugging Bucky towards the parking lot. Bucky sent a silent apology to Steve, but there was no way he was going to turn down Stark's invitation. Steve would be fine for a while.

Ahead of them, a sleek black limo pulled up, a heavyset man that must be Tony's driver - or perhaps his bodyguard- stepping out of the car and glaring at Bucky suspiciously.

Before either of them could say anything, a shout went up behind them. Bucky looked back, and realized they'd taken too long. The reporters from earlier had found them again.

Bucky looked over at Tony with a grin. The driver narrowed his eyes. "No," he started, but it was too late.

"Race you!" Bucky shouted gleefully, taking off for the limo. Steve and he had taken the bus to get here, so that wasn't really an option.

"Dammit!" Tony yelled, following a split second behind. The two men dove into the back of the limo, giggling like children as Tony's driver decided the reporters were more of a problem than Tony's unexpected guest and shut the door on them before climbing into the front and taking off.

"Boss?" The man asked as they left the disappointed reporters to make up their own stories. 

"He's good, Happy," Tony said, snuggling into Bucky's sideas Happy nodded and put the window up after one more warning look at Bucky in the rearview mirror. He glanced up at Bucky mischievously. "You okay leaving your friend behind?" he asked.

Bucky shrugged. "He's got a bus ticket," he dismissed. "'Sides, it looks t' me like your friend back there was plannin' to take him home anyhow." Tony grinned, pulling out his phone and showing Bucky the text that Rhodey has sent.

_ I'll make sure the kid makes it back home. Have fun and DON'T TELL ME ABOUT IT. See you tomorrow to go over the damages...the kid says to tell Bucky to have fun, and to not screw things up by woreying about him. Also, that he's not a kid. _

Bucky snickered, pulling Tony more firmly against him and carefully cupping the uninjured side of his face. "So," he crawled, "as long as we're actin' like teenagers, wanna make out in the backseat?"

Tony smirked, swinging himself around so he was straddling Bucky's lap. "I thought you'd never ask."

And the next morning, when Tony's assistant kicked him out, his clothes clean pressed and the Tony's personal number in his pocket, Bucky decided that maybe race car driving wasn't so boring, after all.

  
  



End file.
